John didn't waste another second.
With a deep breath, he reined in all the scattered thoughts in his mind.
His eyes turned sharp, focused, and unwavering as he leaned over the cauldron.
The faint flicker of his pale blue flame began to dance beneath the round-bellied cauldron, its rhythm syncing with the beat of his heart.
He had already arranged the ingredients from the second batch of materials, roots, herbs, spirit grass, and a vial of thick crimson essence.
One by one, he added them in, carefully controlling the flame and letting the heat lick around the cauldron's base like a whisper of wind.
The air was tense, but John's expression was calm.
He isolated himself from the murmuring crowd, from the occasional claps, and the pride-filled voices of those who had succeeded.
His world narrowed to the ingredients, the flame, and the precise timing the technique demanded.
Every movement was calculated.
Every flick of his wrist had purpose.
But then, just half an hour later, a sharp voice rang out.
"I've finished."
Another wave of silence spread through the hall like ripples on a still lake.
John's hands paused mid-motion.
His gaze lifted in the direction of the voice, and his brows twitched in slight confusion.
A girl was making her way toward the platform, her presence so still and quiet that it was almost eerie.
She had long, silvery hair, tied loosely behind her back, and her face was a blank canvas, expressionless and cold.
Her eyes were a dull grey, devoid of light or emotion, as if life itself merely passed through her, not within her.
She carried her jade bottle with precise fingers and moved with a grace that resembled the stillness of moonlight on a blade's edge.
Murmurs erupted.
"Did she just?"
"Another one... but that's!"
"Bennaca... Bennaca Silentsword…"
The name spread through the air like a chill breeze, causing even the more confident participants to falter in their refinement momentarily.
John furrowed his brows and leaned toward Riara. "Why are people reacting like that? Who is she?"
Riara's proud expression turned subdued, perhaps for the first time since they met.
"You don't know her?" she asked, lowering her voice. "She's from the Silver Sword Family. They're one of the most feared assassin clans in the Wild Southern Continent."
"Assassins?" John echoed.
Riara nodded. "Trained from childhood in silence, stealth, and swift death. Most assassins don't bother with alchemy, but she's different. To be both a killer and a skilled alchemist..." she exhaled, "...she's a monster."
John turned his attention back to Bennaca as she stood on the stage, the examiner taking her jade bottle and inspecting it.
Her stillness was unnatural. She stood perfectly motionless, no shifting weight, no eye movement, no nervous fidgeting. If one didn't know better, they'd think she was just a statue.
A chill ran down John's spine.
There was something terrifying about someone so silent and composed... as if the concept of fear had long been stripped from her body.
"She doesn't even try to stand out," he murmured. "And yet... everyone notices her."
Riara remained quiet for a moment.
Then she whispered, almost begrudgingly, "She's the kind of talent even the top sects fight over. I wouldn't be surprised if Blue Cauldron Sect wants her for more than just alchemy."
John clenched his fists slightly, feeling the weight of the competition settle on his shoulders.
The Roaming Earth Clan, the Flamewell merchant heir, and now... a Silversword assassin.
His gaze dropped back to his cauldron, where the ingredients were bubbling gently.
The pill condensation had begun.
The critical stage was coming.
"There are a lot more dangerous people here than I thought…" he muttered.
But instead of faltering, his jaw set with renewed determination.
All the more reason I need to succeed, not just pass. I need to leave an impression.
I don't have a clan.
I don't have influence. But I do have skill... and the system.
Time trickled by like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, and soon three more hours passed in quiet tension, broken only by the occasional flare of flames or soft gasps of discovery.
Inside the massive alchemy hall, the air had grown thick with the pungent aroma of burning herbs and the quiet rustle of robes as hundreds of cultivators remained hard at work.
By this time, a total of nine participants had succeeded in refining the Rapid Blood Pill.
Each of them bore clan insignias that made spectators hold their breath, scions of powerful families, descendants of ancient bloodlines, or disciples of elite clans.
From the glowing crest of the Roaming Earth Clan, to the frost-patterned robes of the Frostwhisper Hall, to the purple silk of the Serpent Flame Pavilion, their presence alone told everyone that wealth and background still held dominion here.
"Another one from the Fireheart Guild just passed..."
"I heard his clan controls three alchemy valleys. He probably had private masters guiding him since birth."
"Only elites can pass something like this."
Everyone was already forming silent lists in their heads, bets on which twenty would enter first.
It was clear, or so they thought, that no one without a powerful background stood a chance at making the top ranks.
But then...
A voice, calm and deep, rang out, cutting through the murmuring tension like a blade through silk.
"Done."
The single word echoed across the vast hall like a thunderclap.
Dozens of eyes turned toward its source. Alchemists paused mid-stir, spirit flames flickered, and whispers immediately swelled in the hall.
The voice had come from a station beside Riara Greenblade's.
All eyes followed the sound, and when they saw the speaker, confusion filled the expressions of everyone present.
"Who's that?"
"I don't recognize his robes…"
"Does he have a clan insignia?"
"Nope… no emblem at all. He doesn't belong to any major family."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the crowd.
There, standing beside a gently steaming cauldron, holding a jade bottle with a crimson pill glowing faintly inside, was John, clad in simple, unadorned robes.
His sleeves were slightly singed from long hours of work, and a few beads of sweat clung to his brow, but his posture was calm, composed, almost... serene.
The tenth participant.
A complete unknown.
Even the examiners looked up, clearly taken aback.
Riara, who had been wholly engrossed in refining her pill, froze.
Her eyes twitched toward John, and when she saw the glowing red pill inside his bottle, her jaw parted in shock.
"You… you finished?" she stammered, voice low but sharp, disbelief written all over her delicate face.
John gently placed the jade bottle on his tray, a slight smile forming on his lips.
He bowed slightly, respectful as always. "I was just lucky. I'm sure you'll finish yours soon too."
Her mouth opened again as if to protest, but no words came out.
Her pride had taken a blow she didn't quite know how to recover from.
She had thought of John as an interesting, if weak, outsider.
A man of average cultivation, no background, and seemingly only a surface-level interest in alchemy.
But now he stood before her as her equal, no, perhaps her superior.
"Why didn't you tell me before that you were so talented?" she asked, frustration lacing her words.
It wasn't anger, more like the disbelief of someone who'd just been thoroughly blindsided.
John looked at her, his smile calm and unassuming. "Because I didn't think I was. Like I said...just luck."
Without another word, he turned and began walking toward the central platform where the completed pills were to be submitted for verification.
Riara stood frozen, her mind spinning, her heart pounding.
Her previous haughty expression had completely melted away, replaced by a mixture of awe, confusion, and a flicker of competitive fire.
"I misjudged him…" she thought, biting her lower lip.
But then her eyes turned fierce. "I can't lose here. I won't lose."
"I have to get into the Blue Cauldron Sect!" she whispered to herself as her hands went back to work with new determination.
All around them, others continued their furious attempts.
A few participants cast sideways glances at John's retreating figure, but no one dared speak aloud.
The pressure was too intense. Time was ticking. Spots were limited.
And a dark horse had just entered the race, quietly, cleanly, and with deadly precision.
As John stepped onto the elevated platform with steady, unhurried steps, all eyes shifted toward him once again.
The other nine participants who had completed their Rapid Blood Pill trials earlier turned their heads to assess the new addition to their ranks.
Some glanced at him with mild interest, others with clear curiosity, and a few with thinly veiled skepticism.
In a place dominated by surnames and insignias, John's plain robes and quiet demeanor made him a mystery wrapped in obscurity.
Among the nine, however, there was one who did not so much as blink in his direction.
Bennaca Silentsword.
The silver-haired girl with the cold eyes stood like a shadow, motionless and detached, her presence like a phantom in the room.
Her pale gaze remained fixed ahead, her arms folded, giving no outward reaction to the new arrival beside her.
John couldn't help but cast a fleeting glance at her as he joined the line.
Her stillness made his instincts tingle. "She didn't even acknowledge me…" he thought. "All the better. The last thing I want is attention from a professional assassin."
His heart had been calm moments ago, but now, a quiet ripple of caution pulsed through it.
Inwardly, he was more than relieved that someone as dangerous as Bennaca showed zero interest in him.
Soon, a young disciple clad in the blue robes of the Blue Cauldron Sect approached him.
The disciple's movements were precise and respectful, a quiet authority radiating from his demeanor.
"Your pill bottle," he said, extending a hand.
John offered the jade vial without hesitation.
The disciple nodded slightly, turned, and ascended the stairs toward the central judging platform where the elder stood, a white-haired man whose robes bore the insignia of a golden cauldron with twin azure flames.
This elder had observed every participant so far with unwavering scrutiny.
The disciple approached and handed over the jade bottle.
The elder plucked it from his hand with slow, deliberate movements and uncorked it.
A faint medicinal scent drifted into the air, sharp and vibrant.
With the experience of decades, the elder tilted the bottle and let the Rapid Blood Pill slide into his palm.
He examined it closely.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The hall fell quiet as dozens of cultivators tried to read his expression.
His eyes, half-lidded and calculating, glimmered faintly under the light.
He rolled the pill between his fingers, tapped it lightly to test firmness, and held it closer to his nose.
Finally, he looked up and met John's eyes.
A faint smile crept onto the elder's otherwise impassive face.
"Good." His voice was calm but clear. "The refinement is solid. Structure stable. Pill lines are faint but present. A successful batch. I hope you perform just as well in the combat test."
John's chest rose and fell gently as he bowed deeply.
"Thank you, elder," he said with respect, his tone neither too meek nor arrogant.
The elder gave a short nod and gestured toward the right side of the platform. "Stand with the others."
John walked over to the already-qualified participants and took his place in the line.
As he stood still, he felt the stares again, some curious, others veiled behind the practiced calm of nobility.
Yet none spoke to him.
He glanced sideways once and met the eyes of the blonde young man from the Roaming Earth Clan, who gave him a tight nod, not of friendship, but acknowledgement.
The fat golden-robed youth only squinted at him and turned his head with a huff, clearly unimpressed.
The other participants whispered from their stations, watching the growing group of qualifiers.
Still, none dared make a fuss, every second was precious for their own attempts.
John exhaled softly, his gaze drifting forward once more.
He wasn't just here anymore.
He had taken a step into their world.
And this was only the beginning.